


Reflections

by Ravensmores



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Communication, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Character Death, Resolution, Sleepy Cuddles, Victor Nikiforov's Past, there's just a lot of feeling here okay?, victor nikiforov's tragic backstory #98326, yuuri katsuki is a good boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensmores/pseuds/Ravensmores
Summary: Closing the small gap between them Yuuri slowly reaches out and puts his hand on Victor’s knee, drawing gentle circles with his thumb.It’s then he sees the picture balanced carefully on the coffee table, a man and a woman smiling fondly to the camera against the backdrop of the silvery St Petersburg snow.He recognises it instantly.“Your parents?”He feels Victor’s breath hitch next to him before he rubs his fingers across his eyes nodding slowly.“They died 13 years ago today.”





	Reflections

* * *

It isn’t the annoyed groan from rolling over and burying his face in Victor’s chest that wakes him, but the lack of it.

The velvety darkness of the night still engulfs the bedroom, yet when Yuuri stretches his hand out to pull himself back to the comfort of his fiancé’s body, he’s met only with the cool of the bedsheet and the realisation that he’s currently the sole occupant of the mattress.

While it’s hardly the first time he’s woken up alone since moving in with Victor, the current coldness of the other side of the bed has a wave of unease settling heavy and unpleasant in his mind.

As the fuzzy edges of sleep slowly begin to fade, he reaches out again to gently smooth the cool spot next to him. As far as he can remember, he felt the dip of the mattress from Victor getting into bed last night, but he doesn’t hear the tell-tale padding of soft footsteps if he’d gone to stretch his restless legs and even from here he can see the en-suite is dark and vacant.

Grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and his phone from under the pillow he sees that it’s still hours before either of them need to be up. With it being a rest day neither had even set an alarm and when Victor gets his rare opportunities to sleep in, he does. Yet the bed remains empty and the silence in the apartment hangs heavy and thick in the air.

Yuuri debates whether to curl back up under the duvet and wait or go out and investigate, the worry that had been buzzing at the back of his mind getting louder with every passing minute as he rolls around trying to get comfortable.

Victor had been acting more than a little distracted the last couple of days. He hadn’t stopped any of his usual pleasantries, but Yuuri could see how far away his mind was when they talked; how he was scraping through the same sequences over and over again at the rink focussing on an undefined spot on the wall like he was on autopilot and how any comments on his own work were pretty brief and generic at best.

His curt answers of, “ _I’m fine. Really,”_ weren’t exactly convincing but by the third time he’d asked in one day he could hear the growing frustration behind the words and decided to stop.

He wants to ask, wants to pick at the issue that’s bothering him so much and work through it together, wants to stop the rising ball of anxiety growing in the back of his mind about why he won’t just talk to him about it, but being shut down at every opportunity leaves one thought sour and stinging in his mind.

_Is it me?_

Yakov had been out the past few days scouting new skaters, but that didn’t stop Yuuri texting him about it in the midst of an internal panic. His response had been brief.

_If he wants to talk to you about it, he will._

He wanted to try someone else, but every other member of the Russian team had been giving Victor a wide berth, the normal pleasant buzz around the ice now hushed and frosty.

He hated being the only one out of the loop, but the fear festering in his mind that it was somehow his fault had him too scared to ask, instead spending what felt like hours under the cold spray of the complex’s shower, vigorously scrubbing his hair as he ran over everything he’d done in the last few days that could have caused this.

Even Yurio had dampened his normally sour attitude towards the two of them and stuck to his own practice at the other edge of the rink. He didn’t say a word until he stood next to Yuuri watching Victor almost sleepwalk back in the direction of the apartment the previous evening.

“He needs his space right now. You should give it to him.”

“But what is…”

“He doesn’t like people talking about it.” The answer was instant.

 “What am I supposed to do then!?” It came out louder than expected, the frustrations of the last few days boiling under his skin.

It only grew at his infuriatingly vague response. “I know he’s being a pretty shitty coach right now, but he needs to work through this.” He turned on his heels, moving to head in the opposite direction “He’s used to doing this on his own.”

At that point Yuuri felt the last ounces of this patience fraying thin. He wanted to shake some clear answers out of him, out of anyone. The fact that they were being so cryptic had him locking himself in the guest bathroom back home and screaming into one of the sofa cushions until his throat was dry and rough.  Eventually, he’d buried himself in bed to try and work through his frustrations until he fell into a fitful sleep.

Now, he breathes slow and deep trying to ground himself as he listens to the soft thrum of rain washing against the bedroom windows. That alone had him convinced Victor wouldn’t have just up and left in the middle of the night.

He looks over to the hook on the back of the bedroom door.

_Especially without his coat._

Rolling over to Victor’s side of the bed his eyes eventually adjust to the faintest glow bleeding out from where the bedroom door has been left slightly ajar. He could tell it wasn’t harsh enough that any of the main lights were on, but it did mean Victor is probably still somewhere inside.

Swinging off the bed, he grabs the comforter and makes his way out of the door. He pauses for a second in the dim hallway, wondering if maybe Victor really did want to be alone, but couldn’t drown out the louder thought that Victor had been sitting by himself in the dark for what could have been hours by this point.

Entering the living room, he spots him.

He could just make out Victor’s silhouette slumped against the sofa, softly illuminated by the grainy flicker of the muted television, Makkachin’s head in his lap. He wonders for a minute if he’d just fallen asleep out here, before noticing the gentle movement of his hand stroking methodically back and forth against her back.

Taking a breath, he gently pads forward and rounds the couch.

“Hey,” he whispers gently, sitting down on the space next to him.

Victor turns, the glimmer of a surprise washing his features. “Yuuri?” His voice is a distant echo. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. I just woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I just…” he turns his head back to the bright movements on screen, “couldn’t sleep.”

Yuuri takes in his disarray, the hair sticking up at like he’s been running his hands through it for days, the shadows under his eyes, deep and purple as fresh bruises. He’d never seen Victor so… worn.

Yuuri notices the goosebumps rising on Victor’s arms. “Here,” he takes the blanket out of his lap and wraps it over the other man’s shoulders. “It’s cold.”

“Th-thank you.” It’s a stuttered exhale. He can feel the tired strain in his voice, the same force he has when trying not to cry. He’s stopped petting Makkachin and is now wringing his hands in his lap, his shoulders hunched under the blanket like the weight of whatever is bothering is physically pulling him down.

He hates seeing him like this.

 He _wants_ so badly to talk, to ask, to comfort him but he can feel the right words escaping him. Maybe for now he can just use his actions.

Closing the small gap between them Yuuri slowly reaches out and puts his hand on Victor’s knee, drawing gentle circles with his thumb.

It’s then he sees the picture balanced carefully on the coffee table, a man and a woman smiling fondly to the camera against the backdrop of the silvery St Petersburg snow.

He recognises it instantly.

“Your parents?”

He feels Victor’s breath hitch next to him before he rubs his fingers across his eyes nodding slowly.

He knows he’s found the root of the problem.

He’d moved the picture from where it used to hang in the hallway, framed next to his first senior gold medal. Yuuri had noticed it the day he’d officially moved in after he’d finished fanboying over the fact that _yes that was actually one of Victor’s medals._

He’d recognised the two of them from a picture he’d seen on Victor’s Wikipedia page when he first started researching his skating techniques. He remembers feeling his heart drop a little when he’d read the word _deceased_ next to both their names. The article hadn’t said much else about them, just they were both well respected dancers and that they’d been hit by a drunk driver when Victor was quite young.

Victor barely talked about them. He knew this was the only picture he had of them in the apartment too. He’d asked about them once, back in Japan and Victor’s answer was short before he immediately changed the subject. “We weren’t very close when they died, but they did get me into skating.”

Yuuri hadn’t brought it up since. He didn’t want to relive the awkwardness of that moment or the distant, almost clinical edge Victor had to his voice when he mentioned them.

Given how distant he’d been the last couple of days Yuuri is surprised he hadn’t figured out what this was about sooner.

He takes the picture so he can look at it a little closer. “You look just like them.”

Anyone could have looked at this picture and told you who’s parents they were. From the soft silver of his mother’s braid framing the almost ethereal angelic beauty of her face to the lines around the heart shaped smile of his father, he isn’t surprised they produced someone as stunning as Victor.

Victor drops his gaze to where Yuuri is delicately holding the frame. “Everyone says that.” He gently takes it out of his grip, looking at it more closely. “It’s quite an old picture though. I think at least ten or so years before I was born.”

It’s the first real piece of information he’d got about them since he’d met Victor, but he doesn’t want to push. Instead he puts a hand over where his was resting against the picture, a small sign to show him that he’s here for him.

“They died 13 years ago today.”

He feels the weight of the sudden statement hang heavy in the space between them.

“Victor.” He barely knows what to say. He’s not new to grief, but this tired honest exhale at 4AM glues all the words in his throat.

“It’s something I normally deal with by myself- and with everything that’s been going on the past few months, it almost passed me by with us being so busy, but I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it anyway, I just… I just can’t…”

“Victor.” He stops him, gently fanning his fingers against Victor’s cheeks. “You don’t have to tell me. You don’t even need to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He finds the words he’d been trying to say for days now, “I’m here, you don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

He sees a small splash of relief wash over Victor’s features as he processes Yuuri’s words. Victor had enough stress to deal with right now from commitments to the ice as well as this. Yuuri wants so badly to know more details to help but at this moment, Victor doesn’t need to put himself through anything else.

Victor puts the picture down before shifting himself so the comforter is wrapped around both of them and burying his face in Yuuri’s neck, breathing fast.

“Thank you.” It’s such a soft exhale he barely catches it as he more firmly wraps his arms around the other man. “I wanted to tell you, it’s just… hard.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, slowly running his fingers through Victor’s hair, “really, you can tell me as much or as little as you want.” He presses his lips to the crown of his head. “Whenever you want.”

He feels Victor’s shoulders relax a little at that before feeling his lips move against Yuuri’s skin.

“This… I’ve gotten better, but it’s never a good time of year for me.” He hears his words shake as he talks. “You should have seen me when I was younger, it was hard to find a moment’s peace to actually- deal with this when all everyone wanted was to ask me about it and how I was continuing their legacy.”

Yuuri hears the slight sharpness in his voice in the last statement and suddenly feels more in this moment how different their childhoods really were. He can’t even imagine it, being so young and already having the weight of the world bearing heavy on your shoulders on and off the ice and then being dealt such a crushing blow on top of that.

Of course he’s lost people before, but he could never imagine the raw pain of losing someone so close to him that young. Especially a parent.

_Especially both parents._

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant the last few days.” Victor whispers against his shoulder.

“No apologies Victor.” He holds him a little tighter, but Victor pulls back to look him properly in the face.

“No I- I just spent so long just getting through this by myself, I just never wanted anyone else to know.”

“Do the rest of the team know?” Yuuri can’t stop himself from asking.

“Yes. Yakov told them a few years back around this time, as well as not to talk about it or to tell anyone else. Honestly I was pissed that he’d told them anything to begin with but, it did stop them bringing it up.” He shifts again to rest his head against Yuuri’s shoulder.  “He actually offered to move his scouting session in case I needed him but I told him to go. Although,” he feels the small smile accompanying his next words, “he did tell me that I had someone to lean on now.”

“He’s right. For always.” Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s meant something so much in his entire life, but the convictions behind his hushed words are something he can feel deep inside.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. Yuuri can feel himself aching from holding Victor in a slightly awkward position, but he isn’t going to move until he’s ready. He knows what a toll such raw emotion can take on a person.

He’s about to suggest that they move back to bed when he hears a statement cut like glass through the silence.

“I hated them when they died.”

He jerks his head back at the sudden statement. The words are like a punch in the gut.

“You hated them?”

“Right before I found out they were dead, I was just… so angry at them.” His voice is flat and far away, like a whisper on the wind.

“Do you want to talk about this now?” He doesn’t want to push. He really doesn’t know if they’re ready to have this conversation.

“I- honestly I don’t know. Yakov is the only one who really knows the full story but,” he turns to meet Yuuri’s gaze, his focus finally sharpening a little, “I think it might help if I tell you.”

“Okay.”

It’s a while before Victor continues. Yuuri waits until he’s ready to talk, thinking about what the right thing to say could possibly be.

Victor puts his head back on Yuuri’s’ shoulder before he starts.

“For so long they couldn’t have children. And then suddenly, there was me: the miracle baby. I know they just wanted me to get ahead in life, but everything I did I just- had to be the best, had to be perfect, had to be a _Nikiforov.”_ Yuuri had never heard him say his own name with such a bite to it before.

“They were both such well respected dancers in the Mariinsky Ballet company, hell my mother as prima ballerina for way longer than any dancer should be, our name was synonymous with perfection and I had to live up to that.  It’s why my hair was kept long, why I was dancing so young. They just- really wanted me to be just like them.” He sighs, his tone unsteady.

“But then there was skating.” Yuuri feels Victor’s muscles tense more under the blanket, his breath comes out in a shaky exhale. “It was actually my mother’s suggestion that I pursue it after we went one day. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t dancing, they saw I was talented, but I don’t think that was enough. They wanted to push me to be a prodigy, be the best.” Another hitch in his breath.

“Skating for fun basically stopped when they got Yakov to take me on as his pupil. From then all I remember is just them taking me to practice and then extra practice, and every night the same conversation about when I was going to start competing, when I could start really making them proud.”

Yuuri had no idea how anyone couldn’t be proud of someone like Victor. He always assumed he was happy with so much success so young, no one could touch him on the ice, but - he looks down to the resigned expression clear on Victor’s face- he never could have imagined how painful it could have been to obtain such recognition.

“Of course I loved skating,” he continues, “I loved all things it could let me do but the ice was starting to feel less like a playground and more like a prison, I never had any time to go out and just- well- be a child.” His head drops further.

“Of course I won all the junior golds, but they just kept pushing and pushing. They just _really_ wanted me to be the youngest skater to take gold at the Senior GPF, I think that was the goal they’d had ever since I put on my first pair of skates.”  

“When I was young, I was just so obsessed with winning their approval, with upholding the family name. At interviews people always talked about how successful they were and if I could continue to replicate that success on the ice.” He hunches forward moving away to run his hands through his fringe. “It’s what the world wanted and I was just so terrified of what would happen if I didn’t.”

Yuuri can hear the tremble of old fear in his voice. It breaks his heart again and again. All he wants to do is hold him closer, reassure him that he’s still so loved by so many people but, he has to let him get through this first. Has to see what they can do together when it’s over.

“Years and competitions went by and eventually I actually made a friend with another junior skater from the rink. It just felt nice to have someone who I could actually talk to.” His voice lifts a little as he continues. “One summer she even asked me if I wanted to go travelling with her family for a couple of weeks. Of course I wanted to and my parents actually said yes. I was 15, this was the first time I remember actually being able to do something just for fun for such a long time and I just felt so- happy.” The humour in his tone suddenly vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“But… the day before I was going to go I just remember,” He pauses and takes another steadying breath, “Mother came into my room. She said that they’d got me a spot on another one of Yakov’s training camps and that I had to be there tonight until the end of the summer.” Yuuri can almost feel the pain from Victor clenching his jaw as he continues.

“I- I don’t remember what I actually said, I just remember finally letting all my anger out. I completely hit the ceiling. I couldn’t stop yelling. My mother tried to reason with me, telling me I was so close to everything we’d been working for, that if I did this now I’d be ready for the senior division.” He lifts his head to regard the picture again. “All I could think is that they wanted that gold medal more than me.”

“Victor.” He can’t stop himself this time, reaching out to pull him back into his arms. He goes willingly.

“When I was done, my father came in and just said one thing, ‘You’re a Nikiforov. It’s time you start acting like one.’ I think those words stung more than anything as that’s all I’d been trying to do. For my _entire_ life.” Yuuri feels the ache behind the last words, the frustrations, the anger. He knew he had his own voice telling him he wasn’t good enough, but never someone on the outside. He can’t imagine what it was like to hear it from your own family.

“When they dropped me off I- I told them I hated them and not to come back to get me. And then a week into the camp Yakov took me into his office and told me what happened and then I- I just- “He takes another minute, either editing or remembering before his voice comes out as a broken breath, “I just didn’t know what to do. I just felt so… guilty”

There’s another long pause as Victor’s breathing comes out in an erratic broken rhythm. Yuuri tries to soothe him as best he can, gently running his hands up and down his arms.

He eventually evens out and keeps going.

“After that, I ended up moving in with Yakov but I never had any time to really deal with what happened. Everywhere we went people were just hounding us about what I was going to do now and if I would keep skating for them.” The frustration in his voice was back. Yuuri moves to gently pry Victor’s fingers from where he was digging his nails into his palm, bringing up a hand to press his lips to the angry crescent shaped marks.

Victor closes his eyes and melts into the gesture before he continues.

“I kept skating, it’s all I really knew how to do by that point.  Everyone thought I was skating to remember them, to honour them and I for a while I did. I felt like I had to, that after everything I said to them, I owed it to them.” His voice catches on the words that follow. “That after what I said, I’d somehow made it happen.”

“You must have known that you didn’t.” The words are out of his mouth in an instant. Yuuri doesn’t want to think about what the grief of losing his entire family coupled with such a toxic guilt could have done to Victor when he was so young. It scares him.

“Well yes but… I still felt like I had to keep going, so I did. I got them their gold medal. And then I decided to keep going after that. Yakov told me to skate the way I wanted and I did. After a while I even started to enjoy it again and people eventually stopped asking about my parents as it became old news.” He reaches forward, running his fingers against the edges of the picture’s frame.

“Every year at this time I just don’t really know what to feel. I guess they helped make me who I am and I know I was just a stupid child but I don’t think I’m ever going to get over how the last thing I said to them was about how much I hated them.” He takes his hand away and looks down.

“I sometimes wonder if they’d even be proud of me now.”

Yuuri lets the gravity of the story slowly sink in the air as the greying light of dawn gradually filters into the room. While Victor isn’t crying, he can feel the grief in his words, feel the force of it behind the tired expression on his face.

It’s such an old sadness it probably exhausted tears a long time ago.

“Victor.” He reaches out to tilt his face back to look at him properly. “I really can’t imagine what any of that feels like, but I do know one thing.” Victor’s tired expression breaks slightly. “Of course they’re proud of you. Wherever they are, they’d be crazy not to. I mean- you’re _you.”_ He sees Victor almost smile at that.  

“I really can’t condone half the things they did,” he continues, “You might think that they made you who you are, but no child deserves that much pressure on them for so long, it doesn’t matter how successful it made you.” He pulls Victor closer into a proper embrace. “I honestly think you would have turned out just as stunning regardless.”

“They died thinking I hated them.” Victor’s voice is small. Broken.

“You were a _kid._ I think they knew you were angry but, they must have understood why and that you didn’t really mean it. If they could see how you’re feeling now, they really _really_ wouldn’t want you to.” He hugs him tighter, as if he could somehow squeeze all the pain out if he just holds him long enough.

“You don’t know that.” His tone is back to being impassive, as if he’s resigned himself to feeling like this for the rest of his life. Like he _deserves_ it.

There’s no way Yuuri is going to let him do that to himself.

 “No I don’t. But I know that everyone who cares about you knows you don’t deserve to feel like this.” Yuuri loosens his hold lightly and traces the dark shadows under Victor’s eye with his thumb. “I can’t take the pain away no matter how much I want to, but I can be here with you.” He moves down to gently press his lips to his forehead before pulling back, letting his heart bleed from his mouth. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

He’s surprised to see the tears that start falling like pearls from Victor’s eyes as he grabs him back into another hug, pressing his face into Yuuri’s shoulder. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Yuuri smiles fondly at that, letting one hand softly map the expanse of Victor’s back as he lets him quietly cry. “By just being yourself.” It’s the most honest answer he has and it’s so easy to give.

Eventually Victor finishes drying his eyes on the sleeves of Yuuri’s shirt and sits back a little. “They’re actually not buried too far from here,” Yuuri can hear the ache in his voice fading slightly, “come with me tomorrow?”

He smiles and leans forward to finally kiss him properly on the mouth. “I’d like that.”

“I think I should actually introduce them to their future son-in-law,” he muses softly as he traces the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

“I wonder if they would have liked me?”

Victor huffs out a gentle laugh. “You’re a competitor that took one of my records and stopped me skating for an entire season. They might have had some words about that.”

Yuuri chuckles a little “Yeah, maybe.”

Victor sinks back into Yuuri’s embrace, his posture finally slumping as if a ten-pound weight had just been lifted from him.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, letting the rawness of the conversation slowly fade into the early morning, before Yuuri starts to feel Victor heavy and pliant against him.

“Victor?”

“Mmmm?”

“We should go back to bed now.” He gently brushes his fingers against the other man’s cheek, “you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days.”

He sighs into Yuuri’s shoulder, pulling back with a small grateful smile. “That’s probably a good idea.”

Clasping Victor’s hand in his, he switches off the television and slowly guides him back to the bedroom, laying him down and moving his head so it rests comfortably against his chest.

As he strokes the curve of Victor’s spine with his fingertips, Victor lets out another soft confession. “For so long I didn’t really know what it meant to have a family anymore, but it’s okay now,” he tilts his head up to smile directly at Yuuri, “I’ve got you now.”

Yuuri feels himself flush from his cheeks right down to where Victor is resting his chin, losing his grasp on English for an entirely new reason before he finally finds the words to answer.  “You have so much more than just me,” he whispers, “you’ve got the rest of my family, Makkachin, even the rest of the skating team.”

Victor rolls his eyes at the last one. “I think you’re reaching a bit here.”

“Hey,” Yuuri mumbles gently swatting his face, “they count too.”

“I guess,” Victor resigns, nuzzling against Yuuri to get more comfortable. “Never knew I actually had such a big family.”

He slowly feels the remaining tension bleed out of Victor’s muscles as they both drift under the blanket, soft and warm. As he lets himself be pulled back into slumber, he hears, it, the quietest mumble into the darkness but still present and clear in the air.

“Maybe… we can have one someday.”

In his tired state, Yuuri barely registers what a huge proposal Victor had just uttered so easily, instead answering with his own sleepy honesty.

“Yeah. Someday.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't we let this boy have a happy childhood? Well it is more fun to write :P 
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful beta @Pheebshb. You’re awesome!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://ravensmores.tumblr.com/) \- @ravensmores


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